Who Let the Wolves Out? Pt. 3

Finally, the day of the tourney arrived. Jon had decided to forgo the training for the day and the four went out of the keep to experience how the other residents of the Capitol were preparing for the festivities – namely, the smallfolk. The streets were crowded as ever, but there was an air of happiness that could be felt if one was to take a stroll down the roads. The buildings and shops were decorated with colourful pennants. Temporary stalls had been erected for the tourney where the vendors were hawking their wares. Food, trinkets, clothing – every kind of stuff were being examined and bought by the people that came to the capitol for the festivities.

The foursome tried to blend into the crowd and assimilate the experience that they never had before. As usual, Asher pointed out to various food vendors and dragged them on to have a bite or two at regular intervals. Robb and Torrhen bought a beautiful dagger each. They were surprised to see when the man showed them his collection – there were daggers with almost all of Westerosi noble house's sigils etched on them. Jon himself had bought something for everyone. Blue Myrish silk ribbons for Sansa, wolf pendant for Arya, wooden knight figurines for Bran and Rickon, a wooden falcon figurine in the likeness of Gale for Alys and hand-carved combs for Aunt Cat and Lady Anya. He also bought for his uncles and Lord Rickard daggers with their house sigils.

Though they were having a good time, sharing his mind with Gale and Ghost had heightened Jon's senses beyond any normal man's ken. He frowned when he felt something odd in his immediate vicinity. He took a careful look around to see what had ticked his senses off. He spotted a man who was crouched down talking with a small child. He took out a small scroll from the folds of his clothes and handed it to the small girl and a piece of sweet. The girl nodded her head enthusiastically at whatever the man had said to her. Jon thought he had seen the man around the Red Keep. He couldn't place him exactly, but his stature and build seemed very familiar to him.

The man disappeared between some stalls as the child made her way towards them, concentrating on the sweet and oblivious of her surroundings. Jon grabbed Asher by his elbow and hissed at him –

"Knock that lass down."

Asher immediately became alert, he nodded his head once and moved forward as Jon called after him, "Try not to hurt her."

Asher appeared to be taking in all the sights around him and munching on whatever he had bought from one of the food stalls. As the girl neared him, he subtly moved his foot in such a way that the girl tripped over his feet and fell hard on the ground. Jon rushed at her and picked her up from the ground, Robb was following him and discreetly picked up the scroll that the girl had dropped and hid it inside his pocket.

"Oh, dear. Are you alright, love?"

The child's eyes were brimming with tears as she nodded her head.

"You have to forgive my friend here. He doesn't know how to behave with people. You would think that at his age he will be a little careful, but it seems he needs his mother to hold his hands all the time." He mock scowled at Asher. "Say sorry to the lady, you oaf."

Asher kneeled beside them and tried to brush the dirt off the girl's face, "Aye, I am truly sorry, my dear. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Tears started to roll down the girl's cheeks, Jon held her tightly against his chest, "Hey, hey, what is wrong, love?"

The girl mumbled into his chest, "I dropped me sweet…"

Jon ran a hand through the girl's hair, "That is not a problem, Asher will buy you another sweet since it was his fault that you dropped yours. Won't you, Asher?"

"Of course, I will. I will buy you the best sweet I can find. Come on, let's go. What is your name, dear?"

"Anna." The girl muttered in a low voice.

"What a beautiful name. Well, come on, Anna, let us see about that sweet."

The four took the child with them and brought her a few sweets. Jon asked her about her parents and got to know that her father worked at the docks while her mother worked as a cook at a nearby tavern. Her brother was supposed to watch over her but she wanted to see the sights so she gave him the slip. The girl had forgotten all about the scroll as she happily munched on the sweets and chatted incessantly with the funny men.

"Anna!" A cry came from the nearest alley as a boy about ten name-days old came rushing towards them.

"Anna, ya know that yer not supposed ta wander off. Ma would've killed me if ya got lost." The boy frantically tried to get his sister to go with him, who had shrunk and hid behind Jon's legs.

Robb put a hand on the boy's shoulder to calm him down, "Easy there, lad, you are scaring your sister."

The boy seemed to suddenly realize that his sister wasn't alone, he looked up to the four and paled in fear, he knew that he wasn't supposed to go near the lords, his ma had warned him about them, but worrying about his little sister had made him forget about all else.

He took a few steps back and bowed to them, "Forgive me, m'lords. I dinnit see ya there. Me sister always runs off like that. Me ma an' da would kill me if somthin' happen ta her."

"No harm done, lad. Your sister was telling us how much she was excited to see the tourney."

The boy became even more horrified at the thought of his sister had dared to speak with the lords. He started to sweat in fear, he could only hope that the lords took pity on his little sister.

"She shouldna have done that, m'lords. I promise ye, ma will tan her hides. Please, don' be angry with her."

Jon sighed and approached the boy, he grimaced when the boy seemed to shrink in fear that he would hit him. He held his hands in front of him in a reassuring manner to put the lad at ease.

"What is your name, lad?"

"Kurtis Wagner, m'lord. Ma calls me Kurt."

"Well, Kurt, you don't need to be afraid of us. We know what it is like to fear for a sister. We too have a little one who always runs off to get into trouble. And for us brothers, we are all knights who are charged to make sure that our sisters are safe."

The boy had somewhat forgotten about his fears by Jon's soothing tone. He looked up at him with wide eyes, "I ain't no knight, m'lord."

"Let me tell you a secret, neither are we, but our sisters don't know that, do they? To them, we are the brave knights, so that makes it our duty to look after our fair maiden sisters, don't you agree?"

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. Then his eyes fell on Jon's armband and his jaws dropped in awe.

"Yer the White Wolf!"

A few little children who had been peeking from a distance, crept closer as they saw Jon talking calmly with their friend. They heard what Kurt excitedly blurted out and ran the few feet between them to see the man from the songs with their own eyes.

Anna was listening in to their conversation from behind Robb's legs, now she ran past him and came to stand with her brother. "Yer the White Wolf?"

Jon smirked at them and showed them his kerchief armband, the children looked with awe at the snarling, white direwolf beautifully embroidered into the piece of cloth by Sansa.

"Is it true that ya killed a giant bear with yer bare hands?"

Jon laughed hearing that, "Not with my bare hands, I had a knife with me, but aye, I did kill a giant bear." He beckoned them closer to himself, and conspiratorially asked them –

"Do you know why I killed the bear?"

The children shook their heads in unison.

"He threatened to take away my little sister, well, she is Lord Torrhen's little sister, but she is also a sister of mine." He looked at the fearful wide eyes of the children, "haven't you heard the song of 'the Bear and the Maiden Fair'?"

Again they shook their heads in unison.

"Well, let's see if I can remember it correctly."

Robb nudged him to make him turn towards him, "Do you think it is a good idea, Jon?" He gave him a pointed look.

"Don't worry, brother. Lady Anya had tried to give us a few lessons in singing. But poor Torrhen is the one they call for when they need to scare the birds away from eating the crops. I think that I can do a little better than him."

Jon sat down on the ground with the children surrounding him, he cleared his throat and started to sing in a low but soulful voice –

A bear there was

A bear, a bear

All black and brown

And covered in hair

Three boys, a goat

And a dancing bear

They danced and spun

Up to the fair

How sweet she was

And pure and fair

The maid with honey

Up in her hair

He smelled her all

On the summer air

The maid with honey

Up in her hair

From there to here

From here to there

All black and brown

And covered in hair

He smelled that girl

In summer air

The bear, the bear

And maiden fair

Oh, I'm a maid

And I'm pure and fair

I'll never dance

With a hairy bear

I called the knight

But you're a bear

All black and brown

And covered in hair

From there to here

From here to there

All black and brown

And covered in hair

He smelled that girl

In summer air

The bear, the bear

And maiden fair

The bear, the bear

And maiden fair

And the bear, the bear

Applauds rang out around them, people had crowded in when Jon started to sing, Jon gave them all a shy wave. Anna had slowly climbed into his lap as he sang the song. Now she tugged on his doublet to get his attention.

Jon smiled down at her, "What is it, love?"

"Please, Ser, one more song…? Me dinnit like the scary bear…"

Jon smiled sadly at her as he stroked her hair. He closed his eyes to think of the song he wanted to sing –

[CotW]

The Wolfpack stood at the docks looking over the waves as they lapped the bottoms of the ships that had moored there. Without uttering any word, Jon extended his hand towards Robb, who put the scroll in his hand just as quietly. The four came closer together as Jon unfurled the scroll to read –

The young pups are making a mess of everything. They got loose into the garden and dug up the seeds. Also, they are chasing the cats all over the house and barking up at the birds. The cattle are growing healthy, have to keep an eye out for vermin and snakes.

"What do they even mean?" Robb frowned thinking about what he just read. Jon crumpled the parchment into a ball as they finished reading it.

"It is quite clear if you think about it." Jon glared down at the water of Blackwater Bay.

"Eh? It seemed to me as if someone sending a message to their relatives about small household problems." Torrhen said confusedly.

"The message was meant to appear like that if it fell into wrong hands. Think about the wordings, Torrhen. 'The young pups are making a mess of everything.' That's us. We call ourselves the Wolfpack."

Asher's eyes widened in realization, "Then getting loose into the garden and digging up seeds meant…"

"Aye, our excavation of Dragonpit and finding the dragon eggs."

"What does the rest of it mean then?"

"The cats I think are Jaime and Tyrion Lannister. The bird is meant for Lord Arryn. I am not so sure about the cattle. It could either mean the rest of the Westeros or the Royal family. The vermin here could've meant any Targaryen loyalist."

"And the snake?" Robb asked.

Jon turned his head towards him, "What do the people call Prince Oberyn Martell?"

"The Red Viper." Robb nodded.

Asher let out a long breath, "Who do you think is sending the message…and to whom?"

Jon ran his hand through his hair, "The 'who' is very easy, it is the 'whom' which is making me worry."

"Who is it then?"

Jon looked at his friend, "Come on, it is quite easy, you've all read the letters. Who was it that was mentioned in those pages using his 'little birds' for information?"

"Varys." They all spoke in unison.

"Aye, he is known to use children as his lookouts or messengers or informants – whatever you ask. I also know it for a fact that his 'little birds' are rendered mute so that they don't let his secrets out to another soul."

"Rendered mute? How?"

Jon gritted his teeth, "From what Uncle Brynden told me in one of his visits, that the fucking eunuch cut off the tongues of his little birds."

"Then Anna…?"

"I believe it was some sort of trial for her. If she succeeded, she would've soon lost her ability to speak. Mayhaps even Kurt would've bestowed with the gift."

"And now?"

Jon's face contorted as if he was feeling immense pain, "Now that I have intervened, their futures have taken a different turn. I think none of the siblings will be alive to see the end of the week."

Jon took in the pale and horrified faces of his friends and let out a mirthless chuckle, "Welcome to the game of thrones, lads. You either win or you end up dead in this game."

"He is going to kill them? Just like that?"

"Aye, he won't be leaving any loose ends behind. As Anna failed to deliver the message, he will definitely know about that when he follows it up. He hadn't met with her in his normal attire, he had taken up a guise. I am sure that I have seen the man, who gave Anna the scroll, lurking around the Throne room, he may change his face, but he cannot change his stature and figure."

Robb too had a very disturbed look on his face, "Can't we save them? Now that we know they are in danger, we can try to get them out of the city."

"No, we can't, brother. Either he already knows about our interactions with the siblings, or he is going to find out soon. We will be under his scrutiny. If we even take a step towards protecting them, he will end the whole family sooner rather than later. In addition, we will become his main source of interest than just being a passing annoyance. Do you want a man like that to look closely into our affairs? Think with a cooler head, Lord Stark's excuse of my being his bastard is very fragile. Nobody looked closely at it after the entirety of Westeros went through an upheaval. If a child of ten name-days old can discern the truths from the accounts of a few tomes and few leaps of logic, how much time do you think these seasoned players of the game will take to know about everything. We cannot risk it…I cannot risk it."

"Yet you sang in front of everyone, just like him." Asher threw out the accusation, he couldn't swallow the lump that was forming in his throat by the mere thought of knowing that those children they just spent some time with would be dead in a few days.

"Aye, I did sing. Just so it will get Varys to confirm from his sources that Lady Anya indeed made us take singing lessons. That would give the children a few more days to breathe I hope. Also, I wanted to do something for them, as it was because of me they are now facing certain death. I cannot give them money without just cause, so I thought a few songs could be a nice send-off."

"Can't Lord Bloodraven tell us who this person Varys is contacting? That way we could have something over his head and make him spare these children."

Jon shook his head sadly, "The lack of Weiwood trees down the Neck limits his powers something fierce. The last time we talked was when we were staying at the Greywater Watch."

"Promise me something, Jon," Robb said after a while.

"What?"

"You will have revenge in the names of all these children."

"Aye, brother."

The four stood rooted at their place, looking out at the Bay. Each was lost in thoughts.

[CotW]

The tavern owner was very busy catering to the people who came to the Capitol for the King's tourney. It was time for business owners like him to see a rise in profit than the usual earnings at the end of the month. He had seen all kinds of men coming through the doors of his tavern. Some just kept to themselves, some were of the rowdy bunch. He certainly didn't think otherwise when four young lads came in and ordered for a cup of ale each.

Just as he handed them their order, the lads raised the cups and one of them said "To Anna and Kurt."

The other three repeated the same and they emptied their cups in one go. He thought it was odd that young men such as them drinking to the memories of someone. Who could they possibly have lost at such a young age?

He didn't have time to think some more on it as another patron demanded his attention.

*Line Break*

Robb and Asher went to take their seats in the viewers' gallery. They had found out that their seats had been reserved in the box just beside the Royal box. No doubt that the King or mayhaps Lord Hand had to do something about that. The two of them took their seats and waited for the first event of the tourney to commence. It was the archery competition, Jon and Torrhen had both enlisted their names for it.

"Why, greetings, My Lord Stark. I have been meaning to have a chat with you."

A man stood beside them in excessively fine attire. He was tall, had black hair and blue eyes. He looked somewhat as a young Robert Baratheon might have appeared in his glory days. Robb and Asher stood up to greet the lord.

"Greetings, My Lord…Renly Baratheon, I presume?"

"You presume correctly, My Lord. May I?" He indicated the seat beside the duo.

"Of course, it would be our distinct pleasure to have a chance to talk with you. Kindly allow me to introduce my friend, Lord Asher Forrester, of Ironwrath."

Renly gave a cursory nod to Asher, "Of course, another member of your famous Wolfpack. Where are the rest of the pack members, My Lord?"

"Lord Torrhen and my brother Jon are getting ready for the archery competition, My Lord. They both decided to take part in it."

"Ah, the White Wolf is an accomplished archer then?"

Robb smirked at that, "He tries to do his best, but among all these other experienced competitors, I don't know how he would fare."

Renly was apparently waiting for the conversation to turn that way, he leaned forward in his seat eagerly, "Care to put some wagers in, My Lord? Let's put some interesting spin on the tourney for us spectators."

As if he was summoned by the mere mentions of money, Little Finger's face loomed between them from the seat behind.

"Ah, it seems I arrived just at the right time. Greetings, My Lords, what is this I am hearing about wagers?"

"My Lord Baelish, just the man for the occasion. Lord Robb here has just agreed to put in a little wager for the archery competition."

Little Finger's eyes shone at the prospect, "I hope you do not mind if I put my little contribution to the pot then, My Lords?"

"Of course not. I will put in ten Dragons for Wallis, he is a captain of my retinue and quite the archer, the man is."

"In that case, I will match your ten Dragons with mine, but I bet that Ser Hugh of House Pryor from Vale will emerge as the winner. I have heard quite a praise for the young knight's abilities."

Robb pulled out his pouch of money from his pocket, "I will put in two Dragons to the pot, My Lords, I will be, of course, betting on my brother to win."

"Just two dragons, My Lord?" Baelish smirked mockingly at Robb.

"Aye, My Lord Baelish, our lord father had instilled into us that we shouldn't spend what we didn't earn. The money I just wagered is the money I had earned as the normal wages as any commander at the Northern army."

"Ah yes, I should have known that Lord Eddard would be quite honourable and strict like that," Baelish said that as if it was a mark of idiocy.

"Is not it, My Lord? After all, it is our honour that helps us to rise to the occasion." Robb said with a straight face.

Asher couldn't help but let out a snort as he turned his head away from the conversation and looked at the field. Little Finger narrowed his eyes and sat back in his seat. Renly seemed to be oblivious of everything else that didn't concern him.

"You do not plan to enter any of these events yourself, Lord Robb?"

"We all will be taking part in the melee." Robb saw from the corner of his eyes that Little Finger perked up hearing that bit of news, he stored it away to visit later, "How about you, My Lord Renly?"

"I am not much of a fighter on foot, I am afraid, but I do plan to take part in the jousting. We each have our strengths lie at different places, don't we? Won't you be taking part in the jousting?"

"Neither of us have decided yet on that. We do practice at the tilt back at home, but in the North, there is very little use of jousting."

"Ah, yes, up there, all you have to deal with is either the savage wildlings or a few Ironborns. Is it true, My Lord, that the wildlings wear animal skins and fight with sticks?"

"Many of them do, aye, but even the stick-wielding savages can be very hard to beat when they come at you all at once, in countless numbers and from all directions."

"Yes, I am sure they are quite hard to beat." Renly smirked at him, Robb could hear Little Finger snorting from behind them.

Their conversation came to a stop when the Royal family entered the Royal box and took their seats. King Robert was already in his cups, he thrusted his hand out for his Lannister squire to put a cup of ale in it while he signalled the herald to start the competition.

[CotW]

Jon and Torrhen were waiting at the pavilion with the other competitors. They were provided with a longbow each and a quiver of arrows. Jon took a measure of their fellow competitors as he waited. Most of them were of the ranks of captains of the guards, only a handful of lords and knights seemed to be taking part in the event. Apparently, these Southerners do not put much stock into archery. Jon turned his head to see Torrhen was pacing a little ahead of him.

"Nerves getting to you, Torrhen?"

He nodded his head.

"What would Harrion and Eddard have said if they saw you like this in one of our hunting sessions?"

Torrhen frowned at that, "They would call me a little bitch and tell me to quit it."

Jon smirked at him, "Do you want me to call you a little bitch then?"

"Do that and the Maesters will have to remove an arrow out of your arse."

Jon laughed, "There you go. No need to be so agitated, brother. Just think as if we are back at the forest of Karhold, and your brothers have wagered about who will bring the biggest game back to the keep."

Torrhen nodded and stood beside Jon with his back straight. The nervousness had gone from his body completely.

It was then the herald announced the commencement of the event with the King's blessings. The crowd roared as the competitors took to the field. All were supposed to shoot at the target at fifty paces. Then, the distance would increase by ten paces per level as they eliminate those who had failed to get a bullseye.

"What do you think, Jon? Show off or just stick to the normal."

Jon thought about showing off a little bit, but then, his uncle's voice came to his mind 'do not disrespect the skill of others and the labours they have put to hone those skills.' He shook his head –

"Stick to the normal, it's not worth showing off."

Of sixty competitors, five were eliminated in the first round. Slowly, the rounds progressed and more followed suit. At the end of eighty paces, only five competitors remained – Jon, Torrhen, Wallis, the captain of the guards of Lord Renly's retinue, Ser Hugh Pryor from the Vale and Ser Balon Swann from the Stormlands. Jon had no problem hitting the target at ninety paces. Torrhen too had hit his own with relative ease. Wallis hit the outer ring and Ser Hugh edged out Ser Balon by a hairbreadth margin. The three advanced to the final round of the competition.

A smattering of applause rang out as the three finalists were announced. Ser Hugh was the first to step up to take his shot. He took his time to line his shot but it was still out of the bull.

Next was Torrhen, his shot too landed outside of the bull but to the right, as oppose to Ser Hugh's shot.

Jon cracked his neck before he took his stance. Inevitably, his arrow landed right in the middle of the bull. The herald was not needed to declare who the winner was of the archery competition, cheers and applause broke out throughout the viewers' gallery. Jon turned around and sent a wink at Torrhen. He snorted in answer and shook his head. As Jon came near he leaned and said –

"Want to make it more interesting, Snow?"

"What do you have in mind, Karstark?"

"Ten stags say that you can't land it at the same spot again."

Jon raised his eyebrows in incredulity, "Really? You challenge me to that after our training sessions every day?"

"Humour me, then."

Ser Hugh, the handsome, auburn-haired knight from the Vale, had heard their conversation, now he stepped up to the duo, "I would like to be a part of this wager too if you don't mind me, My Lords."

"My good Ser, my friend Lord Torrhen here seemed to has lost his mind. Please, do not get dragged into his idiocy."

"Don't tell me that you are afraid, Snow." Torrhen egged him on.

Jon scowled at him, "Oh, I am going to enjoy spending your money, Karstark."

They flagged down the herald who was about to announce the winner of the event and end it. When they told him of their wager, the herald looked at them as if they had lost their minds, but he shrugged and went to do his duty.

"Your Graces, My Lords and Ladies of Westeros, it seems our three finalist archers have made a wager between themselves. Lord Karstark and Ser Hugh have challenged the White Wolf to shoot at the bull once again, at which, young master Snow had accepted the challenge. With His Grace's permission," the herald turned towards the Royal box, King Robert waved his hand eagerly, he wanted to see what his friend's son can do, "Jon snow will once again take his shot to the target."

Jon took his stance once again, he readied the bow, took his aim and released the arrow. Just as he had done all those months ago at Winterfell, at another wager against Theon Greyjoy, his arrow had split the shaft of the previous arrow and drove the arrowhead further into the target and stuck right at the dead centre.

[CotW]

Lord Arryn had his eyes bulging out of their sockets, Ned's boy was more than an impressive marksman, no, he was a gifted archer.

"Jon! Jon, did you see that? Hah, that was Ned's boy, Jon! What the fuck did he feed that lad?" Robert guffawed loudly.

[CotW]

Renly Baratheon had his jaws dropped almost to the floor. Hitting the bull at hundred paces was the norm, many accomplished archers could perform the feat in their best days. But splitting the previous arrow in the half and landing the next arrow at the same spot? Jon Snow had created legend on this day.

The Forrester boy spoke up then, "I believe that makes you the winner of your little wager, My Lord Robb."

"Aye, My Lord Asher, I believe you are correct." Robb Stark turned towards them.

He and Little Finger handed over the coins to the lad. He bounced the pouches on the palm of his hand and smirked at them.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you, My Lords. Now, if you will excuse us, we want to go down and congratulate my brother."

Renly nodded his head woodenly.

Robb Stark turned back before leaving the box, "Oh, and My Lord Renly?" He turned to look at him, "My brother had pushed himself, as well as us, beyond our limits so that we could return home to our families after battling a few stick-wielding savages at our age."

Renly grimaced as Robb Stark left the box. Little Finger's head once again loomed beside his own, "What do you think, Lord Renly?"

"Just that the Bastard of Winterfell is truly something else."

"Isn't he? How very interesting."

[CotW]

The herald shook himself off the shock, he cleared his throat and announced, "Your Graces, My Lords and Ladies of Westeros, may I present to you the winner of the archery competition of the King's Tourney – Jon Snow of Winterfell!"

The crowd broke out in an even louder cheer than before. Jon approached Torrhen with a slight scowl on his face, "I thought we were not showing off, Torrhen?"

Torrhen replied to him petulantly, "But I wanted to show off my brother's skills, Jon."

Jon shook his head in consternation.

"My Lords," they turned around to face the smiling Vale knight, "Lord Royce has told us all about the Wolfpack, but I wanted to see for myself. You were much more than his words, Lord Snow." He extended his right arm to Jon.

Jon grabbed the knight's forearm, "I thank you for your kind words, Ser, but I am no lord."

The knight leaned forward and whispered to him, "My honorific was not for your birthright, Lord Snow, but your skills."

Jon nodded his head in acceptance with a smile. They approached the Royal box together. King Robert was on his feet and clapping like an excited child. As they reached the box, he leaned over the railings and extended his hand for Jon to grab and shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Hah, Ned's boy! You showed them all, didn't you, lad? Jon!" He turned to speak to the Lord Hand, "Jon, you've got to send a raven to Ned immediately. You tell him that he has done great by his sprogs. What a display! What a display!"

"Of course, Your Grace." Lord Arryn bowed to the King and gave an appreciative nod to Jon.

The herald announced the second place winner for the purse of five hundred Gold Dragons, Ser Hugh Pryor of the Vale, then the winner of the archery competition and the purse of a thousand Gold Dragons, Jon Snow of Winterfell. Chants of 'White Wolf' boomed from the galleries. Jon bowed first to the Royal family and then to the audience.

Robb and Asher had caught up to them by then, both were smiling from ear to ear.

"What made you take the second shot, brother?"

"Blame that on Torrhen. The idiot egged me in a wager."

"Well, I won't be blaming him anytime soon, for a little wager has fattened my coin purse quite a bit today."

"Eh?"

Asher cackled like a mad man, "Robb here has lured the King's brother and the gelded lord into a wager about the competition and won quite a bit from them."

The four laughed their way out of the ground.

*Line Break*

Jon had warned the others off of excessive indulgence of food and wine at that evening's feast. As they all would be taking part in the melee the next day, he told them to stick to their usual meals. As was the previous day, the tables were set according to the kingdoms. But once the feast started, people began to mingle among themselves. Jon was called to join different tables, all wanted to know how he had managed the feat he showed earlier the day.

Soon, the feast ended and bards and musicians took their places. The floor was cleared for dancing. The four were standing by a corner watching the festivities and talking among themselves in low voices.

"My Lord Snow, I had hoped to find you here somewhere. We still have to settle our little wager."

Jon turned to see Ser Hugh approaching them with a beautiful lady on his arm. She had a slender build, wavy red hair and expressive green eyes. Her features matched that of the knight, Jon guessed them to be related to each other. The lady seemed to be taking a measure of him in appreciative eyes.

"Ser Hugh." Jon and the others bowed to the knight and his lady. The knight returned the gesture while the lady curtsied.

"Allow me to introduce the lady, My Lords, this is my younger sister, the lady Madelyne Pryor."

Madelyne chuckled mischievously, "You do not need to introduce the Wolfpack, brother dear. Everybody is already quite familiar with the Northern wolves here." She turned towards the four and unerringly addressed each of them with her hand extended, "My Lord Robb, the eldest son and heir of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell," Robb took her hand in his and placed a kiss on the air above her knuckles, "My Lord Torrhen, son of Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold, My Lord Asher, son of Lord Gregor Forrester of Ironwrath." Each of them greeted the lady with a kiss above her knuckles. Then she turned her eyes towards Jon, "And finally, the White Wolf, Protector of innocent, the Sword of Justice – Jon Snow of Winterfell."

Jon took her hand and placed a kiss, he looked up to her beautiful face hallowed by her auburn locks, "Do not believe in all those titles, My Lady, they exaggerate."

Madelyne smirked at him, "There needs to be a base of truths for people to build up the exaggeration on them, don't you think so, My Lord?"

"I cannot refute that argument, My Lady, but please, I am no lord."

The lady raised one of her delicate brows, "You allow my brother to address you so, won't you extend me the same courtesy?"

Jon sighed, "Ser Hugh is very generous, but you must call me Jon, for truly, I am not a lord."

Madelyne's lips curved upwards in a smile, "If only you call me Madelyne."

Jon shook his head, "That won't be proper, My Lady."

"That remains to be seen, My Lord Jon. Will you kindly escort me to the dance floor? I am having a sudden urge to dance." She didn't give Jon a chance to form his reply and stirred him towards the dance floor where already various lords and ladies gathered and dancing to the tunes the musicians were playing.

Madelyne drew herself closer to Jon as they took up their position, "There are quite a few ladies who would kill to be in my place right now."

Jon smiled down at her.

"Why do I have the feeling that you do not believe me, Lord Jon?"

"Because for a bastard like me, that is indeed quite unbelievable, My Lady."

"Then I am afraid to say, you know nothing, Jon Snow."

[CotW]

Jon's friends stood with open mouths as Lady Madelyne almost forcefully dragged Jon off to the dance floor. Asher scowled at their retreating backs and said –

"You know, it is getting truly irritating the way the ladies seem to see only Jon. Against him, we all appear as if stale pieces of bread to them."

Ser Hugh let out a rumbling laughter hearing that, "Kindly excuse my sister, My Lords. She has been quite insistent that I introduce her to the White Wolf once she saw us conversing at the tourney ground."

Robb smirked, "It is not only your sister, Ser Hugh. The same thing happens everywhere we visit. Poor Asher here is heartbroken that the ladies don't even give him a second glance."

"Fuck you too, Stark. It is not as if you do any better."

"Wylla Manderly, Sara Umber…"

"Will you two please grow up?" Torrhen said exasperatedly.

"Oh, look who is talking, do you remember Dacey Mormont and how she never looked beyond the White Wolf, Torrhen?"

The Vale knight was wheezing for his breath, never in his life had he laughed so hard. He couldn't wait to tell the tales of the Wolfpack to the other Vale lords and knights.

*Line Break*

The Wolfpack got up early in the morning as opposed to the other lords who had partaken in the feast the previous night. They got out of their chambers ready for the day and took to the yard for their training session. Jon led them through a relatively lighter workout session to get rid of the kinks and get themselves fit for the melee. After a lighter morning meal, they rode out of the city with a few men and went into the Kingswood. Even the previous evening, they were swarmed with requests from various lords to see the direwolves. Jon thought they could get the wolves early in the day and then leave them with the troop where they would be looked after while they were in the arena.

Ghost and Grey Wind had felt the presence of their companions, they came barrelling out of the woods as the four and Arthur got down from their horses. They knocked Jon and Robb down on the ground and started to lick them all over. Running free into the woods had been a blessing for the wolves as they appeared to have grown since the last time they saw them. Gale and Munnin had visited them discreetly at their rooms, but they were only able to maintain contact with the wolves through their warg bonds. Now, both cousins were delighted to sink their fingers into the soft fur of their four-legged companions.

"They have gone even bigger!" Arthur's astonished voice made them stop rolling on the grounds with the pups.

Robb smirked at the man, "You haven't seen their parents, Ser Eric. Grim, their father, is almost as tall as the horse you rode in, while Iss, their mother, mayhaps a little smaller than that, but still quite big."

"Aye, and they will grow just as big as their parents." Jon added to that. Arthur could only shake his head at the idea of the giant beasts.

After much pitiful whining and whimpering, accompanied by puppy eyes, they managed to put on the collars and leashes they had brought with them, Ghost and Grey Wind shot them looks of utter betrayal that they were now leashed. They had to do that lest any lords or ladies objected to them roaming free and caused unnecessary troubles for them.

[CotW]

They had come to meet with Tyrion as they were entering the tourney ground. The little lord of Casterly Rock was very impressed by seeing the direwolf pups. The wolves also had taken a special interest in Tyrion as they circled and sniffed at him.

"I hope they don't think me of a very juicy piece of meat." Tyrion had gone rigid and said through clenched teeth.

"No, My Lord, they are trying to decide if you are a friend or foe." Jon tried to assure him.

True to his words, the wolves started to lick Tyrion from head to toe. Jon tried to stifle his laughter as he and Robb dragged the wolves off of Tyrion. The man was drenched in drools with his hair sticking out every odd way.

"Thanks for the bath, I reckon." Tyrion said irritably as he wiped the slobber off his face and threw a nasty glare at the wolves, who just kept looking at him innocently with their tails wagging and tongues lolling out of their mouths.

A small congregation of the nobles had gathered around them by then, none of them had seen a direwolf, only had read about them. They were shocked to hear that the beasts in front of them were still pups, and yet, they are bigger than the biggest hounds they had seen. Lord Royce once again started to speak about their mother as to how the she-wolf was almost as big as a horse.

"Oh, my!" the feminine voice made Jon turn his head. He saw Lady Madelyne clutching her chest as she approached them along with her brother.

"Ser Hugh. My Lady." Jon bowed to them.

"Lord Snow." Both the siblings gave him a nod, their eyes were glued to the wolves.

"I have heard Lord Royce's tales, but to see them with my own eyes is truly something else." Ser Hugh said.

"Truly, brother. And you say they are still pups?" Lady Madelyne asked Jon.

"Aye, My Lady. They are but a few months old."

Madelyne nodded her head, "Which one is yours, Lord Jon?"

"The white one, his name is Ghost. The other one is my brother's companion, his name is Grey Wind."

"I should have known, a white wolf for the White Wolf. You chose your pet wisely."

"I didn't choose him, rather, he chose me, and Ghost isn't my pet, he is my friend." Jon scratched the wolf behind his ears, earning him a tail-wagging, "Do you want to pet him, My Lady?"

Madelyne raised an eyebrow, "That depends, do you mean the four-legged wolf or the two-legged wolf?"

Jon's ears had turned red, "Ah…"

Madelyne laughed seeing Jon squirm, "Forgive me, My Lord. That was a poor jest. I would be honoured to get acquainted with Ghost."

Jon was oblivious of the triumphant look Madelyne sent to the other ladies who had gathered around to watch the wolves by then. The previous evening, many of them had approached Jon for a dance, while he didn't refuse anyone, Madelyne still managed to keep Jon all to herself for most of the evening. She ran her fingers through Ghost's fur and laughed in delight.

"He is so soft."

"Aye, that he is." Jon gave his friend a fond smile.

"You are taking part in the melee, aren't you, Lord Jon?"

"Aye, My Lady, all four of us will be taking part in it."

"And what about the joust?"

Jon ran a hand through his hair, "We haven't decided yet."

Madelyne nodded to herself, "In that case, would you accept my favour, Lord Jon?"

Again, Jon's ears and neck had gone red. He sent a glance at his armband. He looked up to see at the sparkling green eyes of Madelyne and gave her a small smile, "I would be honoured to, My Lady."

Madelyne gave him a dazzling smile and brought a green silk ribbon from the folds of her dress. She tied it at Jon's wrist.

"I will be cheering for you, White Wolf."

Jon looked on as Madelyne made her way back to the stands escorted by her brother. Ser Hugh had told them that he would come and join them in the participants' pavilion after he got his sister seated.

Asher sighed and asked Robb, "Do you think we should ask Grey Wind and Ghost for their favours?"

Robb shook his head, "I am quite sure that they would choose Jon instead."

[CotW]

Melee was the other most popular event of a tourney after the jousting. It was taken as mock fighting on a battlefield, where the losing party was expected to honour their losses and not attack his opponent again once his back was turned. Still, instances were there of personal grudges, where men had been hurt bad or maimed because their opponents didn't adhere to the unwritten laws of engagement in a melee. Nobody got blamed for any unethical attacks, but many a time, feuds between families or houses have been escalated by the outcome of a melee.

Almost all of the visiting lords and knights took part in the King's melee. The crowd cheered along as the herald named each of the participants. Three of the White Cloaks had also decided to take part in the melee – Ser Mandon Moore, Ser Arys Oakheart and Ser Jaime Lannister.

The Northern troop had taken to stomp on the ground as each name of the Wolfpack was announced, when it was Jon's turn, the always quiet Ghost had howled loudly along with the chants of 'White Wolf', making cold shivers ran down the spines of the other participants.

"Stick together," Jon had told his friends, "watch each other's backs. Do not engage in one to one combat at the beginning, let the herd thin somewhat, then choose your fights wisely. Keep in mind that these are some of the best warriors the kingdoms have to offer. Also, they are far more experienced than us. Keep your heads in the fight, do not unnecessarily put yourselves in danger."

At first, the Wolfpack kept to the outer ring of the mayhem. They kept watch for any incoming attacks, some of the lords and knights had banded together just like them and fought in groups. They had gotten into some skirmishes and quickly dispatched their opponents. Slowly, the crowd began thinning and each had drifted apart. Jon had just won against a lordling, who he thought to be a Crakehall or some other lord's relation when he was challenged by four individuals bearing the sigil of twin blue towers on a silver background. The four had the same features – watery eyes, weak chins on rather weasely faces.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Bastard of Winterfell." One of them sneered at Jon.

"Aye, My Lord, may I know whom I am addressing?"

"Ser Rodric Frey, son of Lord Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing." The man said pompously.

Jon nodded, "Very well, Ser Rodric, shall we fight?"

"Not so fast, bastard, you have made quite a nuisance of yourself. Many have exclaimed the desire of how they would like to teach you a lesson." The one on the right said.

"Yes, how dare you put your bastard hands all over the Lady Pryor?" Another Frey chimed in.

"We will teach you the lesson of what happens when you reach above your station."

Jon understood that their using of the name of Lady Madelyne was just an excuse, these four were itching to pick a fight with him – either they had some hidden motive or someone else had put them up to this. By their demeanour, it was clear that they didn't want to fight fair and pit skill against skill, rather, they were not averse to the idea of causing him some serious wounds. Jon decided that if it was fighting they were seeking, then he would give them the fight to remember.

The one who called himself Rodric Frey had thrusted his sword at Jon's chest, Jon ducked down and let the sword went over his head. Suddenly, he jumped up and kicked the knight in the chest with both feet, sending him reeling to his friends as Jon himself landed on his back a few paces away. He scrambled on his feet and got ready for any retaliatory attack, keeping his eyes peeled for a suitable weapon other than his blunted tourney sword that could discourage the four before him from doing what they were planning to do.

The Freys clumsily freed themselves from the entangled mess of limbs and got to their feet. They rushed towards Jon with their weapons raised. Jon ducked and weaved between their attacks, his blunt sword wouldn't have made any impact against their plate mail armours, but he had to be careful as his leather armours wouldn't protect him from receiving bruises. He snatched a buckler up from the ground which was left behind by some other participant and got into a defensive stance. He got ready to fight dirty if need be against the weasels.

Jon ducked the first swing of the sword, he parried the next one from the man on his right and let his buckler bore the brunt of the thrust from the one on his left. He quickly shuffled his feet and jumped up and sideways while swinging down his sword towards the man in the middle. The man barely met the attack by raising his sword. As Jon landed on the ground, He felt as if his back was torn open by something, the fourth man had sneaked behind him and took a swing at his unprotected back.

Wolfblood roared into Jon's ears. He could hear Ghost once again howling in the stands, Gale was high up in the air somewhere above him, he could almost hear her screeching. His familiars were furious and urging him to tear his enemies apart. Time seemed to slow down all around him. His eyes could see everything around him to their minute details, he could hear the heartbeats of the men around him, could smell the stench of sweat and blood.

Jon whirled around on his heel and faced the man behind. The man faltered at seeing the wolfish smile stretched across Jon's face, his eyes appeared as twin, small purple flames. The man gulped in fear and again swung his sword at Jon, but this time, Jon blocked it with the buckler and pushed the sword away. He jumped up and kneed the man at his chest, making him take a couple of steps back. Only his chest armour had protected him from receiving any damage. Jon took a step forward and swung his left arm at his face, the buckler clashed against the Frey's helmet and made his ears ring. Jon didn't let up and pivoted on his right heel, again swinging the buckler at the man with the full momentum of his turn, blood and spittle flew from his mouth along with a couple of teeth as the buckler once again impacted against his face. The man crashed down on the ground. Jon stomped on his wrist holding the sword with his left heel, making him release the sword, and heaved a kick at his elbow, breaking it if the snapping sound that came was to be any indicator, the Frey was already unconscious the moment Jon landed the kick, so he was blissfully unaware of breaking his arm as well as losing his teeth.

The entirety of the attack lasted only a few heartbeats. The rest of the Freys stopped in their tracks seeing their brother get brutalized by the Northern bastard, they had thought him to be an easy fight, in addition to that, they had crowded him and attacked him four to one. They had heard the songs about the prowess of the White Wolf, but like so many other Southerners, they had taken them to be just exaggerated songs.

Jon dropped his sword and took up a blunted mace from beside the broken form of the fallen Frey. The three were startled when Jon started running towards them. He hurled the buckler and it sailed through the air and struck the man on the right in his guts, making him double over. Rodric, who was in the middle, took a swing at his head, Jon bent his knees and pivoted on his toes while letting the sword sail over his head. He grabbed the mace with both hands and heaved a mighty swing at the man's back, denting the armour inwards and making the man crumpled on the ground. The last one looked at him with fearful eyes, he couldn't decide if it would be better for his health to surrender or should he pressed on the attack. Jon took advantage of his indecisive state and struck him in the face with the pommel of the mace and broke his nose. He landed a kick at his middle and sent him on the ground. He took a step forward and let the mace fall down head first on his chest, knocking the winds out of his lungs. He kicked at his head and sent him away in the peaceful land of blissful unconsciousness.

The man at whom Jon had hurled the buckler had gotten his wind back, he took a look around to see his companions on the ground lying unconscious, he dropped his sword and raised his hands in surrender. "Mercy, My Lord." He yelled getting down on his knees. Jon sneered at him and levelled his mace at his face –

"If you want to fight someone, do it with honour. Do not stand there boasting about it or try to employ any sneaky tactics, who knows, mayhaps somewhere down the road some insane bastard like me may take pleasure at caving your faces in." He spat as the man fervently nodded his head.

Jon took a deep breath to get the bloodlust under control. He glanced around to see how the other members of the pack were faring. Torrhen was already out of the fight, while Robb was exchanging blows with Lord Berric Dondarrion and Asher was engaged with Lord Royce. As he watched, Asher fell prey to the more experienced Lord of Runestone.

"Lord Jon." Jon turned around to see Ser Hugh approaching him with a smile.

"Ser Hugh." He greeted the knight with a nod.

"Having fun, My Lord?"

"Aye. What about you, Ser?"

"It was rather entertaining for me too, yes." He gave Jon a smirk, "Shall we, My Lord?"

"Aye, of course, Ser. But would you grant me the chance to take up my favoured weapon or shall we dance as we are?"

"I want the chance to boast that I have faced the White Wolf at his best. By all means, My Lord, take up your weapon."

Jon nodded his head in thanks and picked up a sword in exchange for the mace. Both fighters got into their stances and started to circle each other, trying to find an opening for attack.

Ser Hugh took a few quick steps and lunged his sword at Jon's left, unprotected side. Jon turned to his side and let the sword pass him by, he brought down his sword to strike the knight's shoulder, but Ser Hugh was also quick on his feet, he too turned and made the attack a glancing blow against his armour. Both once again got back to their defensive stances and readied themselves for the next exchange of blows.

Finally, Jon was having fun in the melee. The encounter with the Freys had left a bad taste in his mouth. Ser Hugh had made up for that, being an honourable warrior who pitted skill against skill. They kept on with attacks and counter-attacks, probing at each other's defences. Jon decided to finish the fight, he laid a trap for Ser Hugh. The knight fell for it and thrust his sword aimed at his shoulder, Jon crouched down slightly and the sword glanced over his left shoulder, he snaked his left arm around the knight's right one with lightning speed and put pressure on his shoulder, making the knight go down on a knee. Jon put his sword at his neck –

"Do you yield, Ser?"

Ser Hugh let out a pained chuckle, "Yes, My Lord, I yield."

Jon let the man's arm go and helped him get up on his feet.

"I thank you, Ser, for providing me an apt challenge."

"Yet I lost to you, Lord Jon."

They grabbed each other's forearms in a show of respect. The knight gave him a nod and made his way out of the ground. Jon looked around for his next opponent. He was shocked to see only four combatants left on the field – Lord Yohn Royce, Thoros of Myr, Ser Jaime Lannister and himself. His bout with Ser Hugh had taken a longer time than he realized.

The Red Priest was fighting with an alight sword or swords. Jon saw him discarding the charred remains of the sword he was using and took up another one as he approached him.

"Jon Snow, I have heard that you are quite a fearsome fighter."

"I have heard the same, Priest. My lord father had told me how you were one of the first to breach the defences of the Pyke."

Thoros nodded, "Let's see how a warrior like Lord Stark has trained his son then, Snow." He muttered something under his breath and spread something on the blade of the sword and it caught fire. He advanced towards him while whipping the sword in front of him. Jon had caught on to his tactics, his opponents always fell prey to the fear of fire. This enabled the Priest to capitalize on their fears and pressing on his attacks. Jon gave him a smirk, much to the Priest's astonishment and also advanced with a steady gait.

After exchanging a couple of blows, Jon understood that the Priest was an average swordsman at best, it was his flaming sword that made him a formidable opponent to everybody else. Against Jon, the Priest's only advantageous weapon had lost its edge, as Jon had no fear of getting burned. He stepped up closer to the Priest and made him falter in his retaliatory attacks. Within a few strikes, Jon had disarmed him and had his sword placed on the Priest's neck.

"Do you yield, Priest?"

Thoros was looking at him with wide eyes, he mumbled something under his breath. Jon strained his ears and thought the Priest muttered the words 'Azor Ahai'. He was worried if the Priest started to speak aloud, he pressed hard against his throat and growled, "Yield!"

Thoros raised his arms in surrender and said, "Yes, Jon Snow, I yield to you."

Jon nodded and removed his sword from the man's neck. He watched as the Priest made his way out of the ground while staring back at him with a calculating look on his face. He decided that he would need to have a chat with him, soon.

Jon shook himself off those thoughts and looked to see that Ser Jaime had won against Lord Royce. The Bronze Lord graciously accepted his loss and bowed to the knight before making his way out of the field. Jaime looked at Jon and gave him a smirk.

"Well, Snow, I didn't think that you will last this long."

Jon returned the man's smirk with one of his own, "I often tend to surprise everybody, Ser."

Jaime barked out a laugh, "Shall we dance then, Snow?"

"Just a moment, Ser Jaime."

Jon hurried off to the side and picked another sword and swung, he clanged both of his swords against each other and nodded his head. As he got back to his place, Jaime raised an eyebrow at him –

"Dual wielding?"

"Aye, Ser. I need every advantage I can get against an opponent such as you."

They both got into their stances and almost in unison, they had scratched a line before them with the point of their swords. Jaime again laughed as Jon smirked at him. Quick as a flash they were on to each other. Their swords were a blur of motion, only the metallic sounds of the swords let the viewers knew that the strikes were finding their marks. Jon knew that strength-wise, he was no match to Ser Jaime, so he had to rely on his speed from the beginning. The only fault with that strategy was that Ser Jaime was equally fast as him. They were exchanging blows without holding back and were having a great time at it. Both were laughing heartily if one of them pulled off a difficult manoeuvre or an equally difficult block.

Everyone in the stands was watching with awe as two of the finest swords of the realms going against each other. They all knew of Ser Jaime's prowess, they all had heard about the White Wolf's mastery with blades, it was a treat to all to see those two putting their skills against each other. The lords were amazed at the ferocity the duo were showing, the ladies were swooning at how heroic the combatants looked. Ser Arthur had a happy and proud smile on his face seeing his former pupil testing his current pupil.

Soon, inevitably, Ser Jaime proved that experience was a necessary factor in any fight, he had made Jon drop one of his swords and had him on the backfoot. After a while, Jaime had his sword pointed at Jon's throat, both of them had bright smiles on their faces. Both had immensely enjoyed their bout. Jon was glad that he didn't make it an easy win for Jaime. Jaime was glad that he had to put his all out to earn his win against Jon. No underhanded tactics, no taunts or boasts were exchanged between the two. They simply pitted skill against skill.

It took them all a few moments to realize that the fight was over. It was as if the entire audience were drunk by the display the two had shown. Everybody stood on their feet and started applauding the duo. Jaime and Jon bowed to them all and approached the Royal box. King Robert had forgotten about his wine for the entirety of their bout, he was sitting at the edge of his seat with a look of utmost wonder on his face. When the fight was over, he had let out an explosive sigh and laid back in his seat. A beaming smile shone behind his beard.

"Your Graces, My Lords and Ladies of Westeros, may I present, the winner of the King's melee – Ser Jaime Lannister, the White Lion." The herald's voice sounded to all and sundry. Everybody cheered and chants of 'White Lion' filled the stands. As the herald opened his mouth to announce Jon's name, Jaime raised his hand to stop him.

"Jon Snow, come forth."

Jon looked puzzled as he went to stand before Ser Jaime.

"Kneel."

A hush fell over the ground, all present were looking at the two with widened eyes.

"What are you doing, Ser Jaime?" Jon narrowed his eyes at the knight.

"I am just doing one of my duties as honourably as I can." Jaime winked at him as he threw Jon's own words back at him, "Now, kneel."

Jon slowly got down on one knee. Jaime pressed the flat of his blade on Jon's right shoulder, "Jon Snow of House Stark, do you swear before the eyes of Gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord and your King, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?"

Jon felt as if his throat was constricting, it was becoming hard for him to breathe. One of the fondest fantasies of his childhood days was being dubbed as a knight. Since the day he had learnt the meaning of the word 'bastard', since the day he started to realize the scorns he used to receive, he used to think in the confines of his room that one day he would show everybody who scoffed at him that he was something other than a mere bastard, he would show them all by becoming the fiercest fighter, a brave knight from the stories of old. Since then, his situation had changed, he had come to know of his legacy, his true identity, the charges that the Gods had thrusted upon his young shoulders. But among all these, somewhere in the deep recess of his mind, his desire to become a knight still lived. The dream that his childhood mind had latched on to, still thrived. And now, all of it was coming to fruition.

"I do." Jon spoke in a choked voice.

Jaime lifted the sword and again laid it upon his left shoulder, "Then, in the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave," with each sentence he uttered, he touched the opposite shoulders of the lad kneeling before him with the flat of his sword –

"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women. Rise, Ser Jon Snow, the White Wolf, a knight of the realms."

Slowly, Jon got up to his feet. His eyes were brimming with tears. He looked at Jaime and found that instead of the usual smirk, the knight had a serene smile on his face. He turned towards the herald and said –

"Now you may speak your piece."

The herald cleared his throat, "Your Graces, My Lords and Ladies of Westeros, in the second place of the King's tourney, may I present to you all, for the first time, Ser Jon Snow, the White Wolf."

The crowd broke into an even louder cheer.